


Something Just Like This

by apostated



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, First Dates, Fluff, Romance, hey bioware just let me romance krem you cowards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 19:30:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14921504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apostated/pseuds/apostated
Summary: She was born a noble, she’s been to every corner of Thedas.  So what’s a simple guy like him to do in order to impress her?





	Something Just Like This

**Author's Note:**

> krem flirting: this is so easy i've got this i'm the SHIT  
> krem courting: oh no i don't got this oh fuck shit hELP
> 
> also if maferath's beard isn't a canon swear it is now *shrug emoji*

She’s been to every corner of Thedas, sometimes dragging him along, most times not.She always comes back, covered in dust or blood or ichor or all three, her eyes lighting up as soon as she reenters Skyhold’s gates.He wants to do something for her, to show her how much she means to him.She’s always trudging around, doing things for everyone but herself, and he wants to give her the break he knows she needs, to take her somewhere as special as she is.She’s more than just a quick fuck in an unoccupied hallway.She always has been. 

But Maker-help him, he’s got no sodding clue how to do it.Each time he’s tried to broach the subject with her, he’s gone chicken shit, and ended up back in his little corner by the door to nurse his pride and a bottle of wine, or she’s being carted off to some other part of the country for weeks.It shouldn’t be this bloody hard to court a pretty girl.He certainly doesn’t ever _remember_ it being this hard. 

The Chief just gives him a knowing, pitying look accompanied by a shit-eating grin that’s no help at all.

“You’ve got it bad, Krem de la Creme,” he tells him, clapping a massive hand on Krem’s shoulder.Years of conditioning his legs and knees for the blow are the only reason they don’t buckle from the force. 

“It’s so _cute_ , though,” Dalish grins at him.“Look at him, he’s _blushing_.”

“Oh, piss off, the lot of you,” he snaps.He doesn’t even have a smart-ass comeback either, because he _knows_ they’re all right.All it does is earn him a hearty guffaw from Bull and Rocky as he slides onto the bench across from Dalish and Skinner.

“If you want _real_ advice,” Dalish continues, leaning forward across the table at him, her tankard clutched in both hands.“Here’s mine: you’re reading too much into it.Evanna is just a girl.Forget, for a moment, that she’s the Herald of fucking Andraste or whatever else it is that they’re calling her these days.She’s _just a normal girl._ Just do something she _likes_ , you lovesick idiot.You’re handsome and charming, and if I’m not mistaken, you’ve already swept her off her feet, if the pining looks she gives you from across the tavern are anything to go by.And don’t think we’ve not noticed you two sneaking off whenever you think no-one’s looking.Take her someplace _nice_ , though.Somewhere she _likes_.The rest will sort itself out.”

“Yeah, Krem, you won’t know until you try,” the Chief tells him.He groans and buries his head in his arms.“And if all else fails — you’ve always got Rocky as a rebound.”

“ _Very_ funny,” he grouses, voice muffled against his vambraces.

———

 

He doesn’t sleep at all that night, his mind running rampant with ideas of what they can do and where they can go.His first thought is Orlais, but he remembers the way her nose crinkled in distaste when she’d gotten back from Val Royeaux the first time and the way she’d groused about it to him after.She likes those little frilly cakes well enough, but as far as Orlais itself goes, he _knows_ she hates it. 

Not Orlais, then. 

He _wants_ to take her to places like Nevarra, Rivain, Antiva, let her taste the food, watch those grey eyes drink in the vibrant beauty of their cultures, kiss her as they watch the sunset.But he’s not exactly _rich_ , even with the decent pay the Inquisition is giving the Chargers.And he doubts whether Thedas can afford for her to be away for so long.Then there’s the matter of the Antivan Crows, the fact that someone could put out a bounty on her head.She’s more than capable of protecting herself, and if he’s with her, she’s at even less of a risk, but he doesn’t really want to be the one who comes back with the news that he got the beloved Herald of Andraste killed. 

Andraste’s tits, he’s overthinking this.

He rolls over and punches his pillow in irritation.She’s a noblewoman from _birth_ and he’s just a poor mercenary.She deserves the world and he can’t give it to her. 

And that’s when he comes up with a plan.But he’s going to need help.And a _lot_ of it. _And_ it’s going to take time.The Chief is never going to let him live this down.It’ll be worth all of the teasing, though, to see her smile.

———

He runs a nervous hand through his hair over and over again, mussing it up from where he’d so meticulously styled it not even an hour before.She’s going to hate it.He’s going to get tongue-tied and put his foot in his mouth.He’s going to trip down the stairs and _literally_ wind up with his foot in his mouth. 

Why did he think this was a good idea, again?

He’s hovering just outside of the door to her bedchamber, pacing back and forth, trying to bring himself to knock. _Stop fucking around, Aclassi._

His hand is poised to knock, but before he can manage to do so, she flings back the door and he just stands there, frozen, the wind completely knocked out of him as he drinks her in.

Fucking hell, she’s _beautiful._

He’s never seen her with her hair down; she always wears it in a complicated series of plaits and twists when she’s out in the field, and he’s never fully appreciated just how _long_ it is.It brushes that delicious dip at the base of her spine just above her ass, and he’s seized with the insane urge to tangle his hands in it and kiss her until she’s as breathless as he is.Pulled back, she’s the picture of Andraste’s chosen, but with it down, she looks younger, more vulnerable.More like the Evanna he’s come to know and less like the figurehead everyone makes her out to be. It makes his heart skip a beat.She’s dressed simply, in a grey tunic and supple black leather trousers as opposed to her Circle robes, but it suits her.He swallows.

“Ah, er—Good evening.Your Worship.You—you look nice.”His hand is still balled in a fist as though to knock and he lets his arm fall to his side, heat creeping up his cheeks.She bites her lip in a futile attempt to keep the smile tugging at the corners of her lips contained.

“You can relax, _Lieutenant._ No-one here but me.”

_That’s exactly why I’m about to piss myself_ , he thinks, but he doesn’t say it.Her small, pale hand takes his much larger one and he swallows again, ignoring the swooping sensation such a simple gesture causes in the pit of his stomach.

She gives his fingers a light squeeze and settles into her place at his side, seeming completely at ease.He feels as if he’s on fire, his anxiety making him feel uncertain and awkward.He can face down an army of Venatori, take on a horde of demons without blinking.But this…this is uncharted territory.Sure, he’s been with women before.But he’s never felt the way she makes him feel. 

“So,” she nudges him with her elbow, and he’s suddenly _very_ aware of just how silent he’s been the entire time they’ve been making their way through the bowels of Skyhold.“What is it that you want to show me?I swear on Maferath’s beard that Cassandra was practically _swooning_ when I told her you’d asked me to dinner.”

“R-really?” His throat feels dry. 

“Mm,” she hums, wrapping her arms around his arm and leaning into him as they wander through the castle.He’s vaguely aware of the fact that he’s supposed to be leading them, and he’s glad that his feet seem to have remembered, because he may have left his brain back on the threshold of her bedchamber.He can feel the heat of her through his doublet — Bull had coerced Dorian into finding one for him (he doesn't want to think about what _that_ had involved) — and it’s all he can do to convince himself to keep leading her to the Herald’s Rest when all he wants to do is run his fingers through that hair of hers and make her moan his name. 

They’ve had their fair share of stolen kisses.Physicality — _sex_ — was easy, all things considered.Sex was primal, instinctive, easy to navigate.And, as he’s been told in the past, he’s _very_ good with his tongue.But _courting her_ is something completely foreign to him, and she’s the first person who’s made him actually want to try.He wants so badly for this to go right. 

He nearly trips over his own feet and down the stairs out of the keep when the realization that he might be falling in love with her hits him like a war-hammer.If he wasn’t nervous before, he certainly is _now_ , and he hasn’t said a single fucking thing in a solid five minutes, and Maker — he’s already buggered it, he knows it, and they’re not even through the door to the Rest and —

She lets go of his arm on the threshold, and her hands fly to cover her mouth in what he hopes is awe.Her grey eyes are wide as she drinks it in, the lengths he’s gone to to make something special just for her.They’ve draped the entire first level of the tavern in Rivaini silks.Two bottles of Antivan wine sit on a table he’s set for just the two of them, laden with foods from every part of Thedas, including the little pink frosted cakes she’s so fond of from Orlais.It’s definitely too much for the two of them to eat, but he’d wanted options in case there was something she didn’t like.Various other trinkets from different countries — rugs, lamps, little statues, procured with the help of Sister Nightingale, Lady Montilyet, Cassandra, and, of all people, Varric — are scattered around the room, transforming it into a sort of bazaar where they can sit and pretend they are anywhere they wish.It’s the best he can do.(The real miracle, he thinks, is that Bull’s managed to make good on his word to make sure the tavern is cleared, and he makes a mental note to buy that brilliant, beautiful asshole the biggest cask of Chasind sack mead he can afford).It actually…looks pretty good, he thinks, smirking a bit as he gauges her reaction.

“Maker’s _breath_ ,” she exhales, her eyes unable to stop flitting from the Nevarran lamps to the silks to the food and, finally, up at him.“You did all this?”

He shrugs, the smirk turning full-on smug grin.He can’t believe he could ever have been so nervous before.Dalish was right.Not that he will _ever_ tell her that.“I had a bit of help, but yeah.Wanted to take you to Rivain or Nevarra or Antiva myself, but, circumstances being what they are, I figured I’d bring a little bit of _them_ to you.” 

There’s barely a heartbeat that passes before she flings her arms around his neck and she’s kissing him like she’s drowning and he’s the only thing that can save her.He grins against her plush lips, his own arms snaking around her waist and lifting her off of her feet.It’s brief, but it’s enough to leave them both panting.She runs a hand through his hair and rests her forehead against his as she pulls away, pink high on her cheeks.He nuzzles her nose with his own, that unknown feeling washing over him again as he holds her.

“You know you didn’t have to do all of this.”

“Nah, but I wanted to.If I could give you the world, I would,” the confession is quiet, barely above a breath, but she hears it nonetheless and places a kiss to his cheek.

“I don’t need the _world_ , you silly sod,” she snorts.“I’ve seen enough of it to know what I want, and what I want, Cremisius Aclassi, is _you._ ”

 


End file.
